


Before It's Too Late

by bmnugent



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Divorce, F/F, F/M, Family, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmnugent/pseuds/bmnugent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A life you don't live is still lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gimme Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE THE ENTIRE KABBY AND CLEXA FANDOM SO MUCH. Thank you guys for EVERYTHING. Seriously. So here's a follow up, multi chapter fic for "Love You All The Time". I even have a playlist! LOL. [Before It's Too Late Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/bmn3640/playlist/4zET3jxyWG8yLTMajJJMSW)
> 
> Sorry for any grammar mistakes! Enjoy!

The first person she calls is Marcus when the moving van pulls into her driveway, a familiar truck following behind. It’s a quick call to let him know that the movers, along with Jake and Jaha, are here to pick up the rest of Jake’s belongings. She watches from behind the curtains as Jake climbs out from his lifted truck.

“Do you want me to come over,” he’s asking.

“Jaha is here. We’ll be okay,” she reassures him. He grows silent across the line, knowing that this must be extremely hard for her. “I’ll call you when Clarke and I leave.” They say their goodbyes just as the front door opens.

It’s one of the movers, followed by his partner, then Jaha, and finally Jake. 

She stands there with her phone clutched in her hand, pressing it against her chest. 

“Abby,” Jaha greets her first with her name and a simple nod of the head. It’s far too awkward to talk about things now, so he follows the movers down the hallway into Jake’s study. 

The only things left in the house are things that she can’t take with her; things that remind her too much of Jake. 

Her soon to be ex-husband stands in the foyer, looking everywhere except at her.

“Where’s Clarke,” he asks after a painful period of silence.

“Upstairs,” is all she can manage, not wanting to speak more than necessary to him. There’s an empty, awful feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she looks at him or listens to his voice. He nods, making a move to climb the stairs and see his daughter, but Abby stops him. “She’ll be down in a minute.”

There are sounds of furniture being lifted onto a dolly and Abby reaches for her purse, sunglasses, and car keys. There’s no other reason for her to be here, in a house that’s been her home for the past eighteen years. 

At the sound of Clarke’s bedroom door shutting, Abby makes a move for the front door. Jake doesn’t watch her go, doesn’t turn around.

“Don’t do this, Abby.” She can barely hear him over the sound of wood against metal, but ignores it anyway. She’s made up her mind for good. The house is on the market, her belongings sit in the back of her SUV, and her attorney has the divorce papers ready to sign.

Their daughter makes her appearance at the top of the stairs, keeping her head down and eyes on her feet. Her soccer bag, filled with clothes and other small belongings, is thrown over her shoulder.

It all happens too fast for Jake. His little girl descends the same staircase he’s climbed so many nights to tuck her into bed as she slept in his arms, the same staircase he taught her how to climb when she was a toddler.

Abby is opening the door, intending to leave without another word, and Clarke can’t seem to meet her father’s eyes.

“Just… Abby-“ He’s stuttering with his words, because in less than thirty seconds, his entire life will walk out of the house. “Damnit, just wait a minute.” It comes out in a desperate plea, enough to stop Clarke before she passes her father up. Abby gives him one last look, lowering her sunglasses. “Can I at least say goodbye?” He nods his head towards Clarke, who locks eyes with her mother. The younger Griffin nods her head once, letting her mother know that it’s okay, and Abby pushes her glasses back up her nose.

Abby disappears, walking onto the front porch, down the patio steps, and towards her SUV. There’s nothing left she has to say to Jake.

Clarke readjusts the straps of her bag as she shifts the weight of it between her legs. 

“Give me that,” her father whispers, reaching out to gently take her over-stuffed soccer bag, setting it carefully down on the floor at their feet. She watches him, determined not to break down now, that this isn’t goodbye for the last time. But when she catches a glimpse of his guilt-ridden expression, her lip quivers and she walks into his arms willingly.

It catches him off guard, only for a moment, but he’s wrapping his strong arms around his little girl. ‘Finally,’ he thinks, unable to picture the last time he’s held his baby girl. It’s a sickening thought to know that she’s mad at him, or that she possibly hates him. 

Clarke realizes there aren’t any words her father can say, not enough time in the world for him to explain why he did what he did, and despite every fiber in her body screaming at her to be angry with him…. he’s still her father… and she still loves him.

“I can’t hate you because you’re my father,” she says with a shaky voice as she clings onto him. “But I can hate you for what you’ve done to mom,” she says, pulling back, her eyes rimming with tears. His arms fall lifelessly away from her. He watches as she picks her bag up, struggling a bit with it’s weight. He wants to help her, but he doesn’t.

“Clarke, I’m-“

“I love you, dad,” she says before he can apologize, refusing to give him another glance as she goes out to meet her mother at the SUV. He follows her slowly, stopping in the open doorway, watching as his daughter climbs into her own car. 

Jaha is there suddenly, watching silently with Jake as the two women back out from the driveway and drive off into the setting sun.

“Did she say where they were going,” the other man asks. Jake watches as Clarke’s car disappears into the distance before stepping back into the house.

“I know where they’re going,” he answers in disgust.

—

He’s leaning against his Jeep as Abby pulls her SUV alongside him, Clarke slowing down to a stop and waiting for her mother to get out of her vehicle. She watches from inside of the car as her mother walks silently into Kane’s arms. One arm wraps around her protectively and his other hand flies into her hair, steading her head against his chest. 

His lips drag closer to her ear, he whispers something, her mother nods her head twice, and then she’s slowly pulling away from him, her head craning back to look at her daughter who’s still waiting in her car. Abby turns her back to him, walking closer to Clarke’s car, coming around the front, and leaning into her open window.

She doesn’t have to ask her daughter where she’s going, because she already knows. So instead, she sticks her head into Clarke’s car and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“Be careful. And tell Lexa I said hello,” she smiles softly at her daughter, who nods and turns to wave goodbye to Marcus. “Text me when you get there,” Abby reminds her, pressing one last kiss to her daughter’s face before letting her drive off.

It’s not long before Marcus is grabbing Abby’s bags from the back of her Infiniti, hauling them up the stairs and into his apartment. He intends to go back and get the rest, but she stops him and assures him it can wait until morning. 

His apartment is the same as she remembers from years ago, when they were half the age they are now. Save for the new furniture and a bigger television, it’s exactly the way she remembers it. She’s frozen in his living room, taking in her new surroundings, when he emerges from his bedroom.

“I ugh… I figured you’d be too tired from all the moving to cook, so I ordered take-out.”

His voice snaps her out of the daydream and she meets his gaze across his living room. She smiles softly, wondering what she had done to deserve someone like him, and slowly nods her head to confirm that his choice in dinner is okay. 

It’s too much, an overwhelming guilt floods her veins, and she wants nothing more than to break down and cry in the middle of his living room. Her expression changes on a dime and he’s horrified at how quickly the mood has changed. He’s unsure if he should go to comfort her or stay his distance.

“Why are you so good to me,” she asks suddenly, thinking of all the times she’s wanted to break things off with Jake to be with him, how it never happened, how she eventually married Jake instead of Marcus, and how he still stands in front of her, loving her no less than he did all those years ago… when she belonged to someone else.

“Abby-“ He starts, but she doesn’t let him finish. 

“Seriously.” She’s so caught up in her confession that she doesn’t realize how close he’s getting to her. “How can you still… love me after everything I’ve done to you.” 

“Where is all of this coming from,” he asks, perplexed.

“I wasted so much time with Jake,” she’s talking to herself, running one hand nervously through her hair. He realizes she’s beating herself up for all the mistakes she thinks she’s made.

“You wouldn’t have Clarke if it weren’t for Jake,” he reminds her, but she’s not listening.

“I knew I loved you.” 

“You loved him, too. Abby, it’s ok-“

“I loved you more, Marcus!” It’s the first time she’s raised her voice at him in years. The confession surprises her more than it does him, but she’s quick to recover. “I loved you more and I still married him.” Her voice is softer, breaking. “I’m so sorry,” she finally says and he’s suddenly thrown twenty years in the past, watching the tears fall down her cheeks on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

He doesn’t hesitate to reach out for her, pulling her into him, and pressing a loving kiss to the side of her head. ‘I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him,’ she thinks to herself as he repeats the same words.

“We’ll be okay,” he promises.


	2. Lost In The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A life you don't live is still lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the views, kudos, and comments! I can't believe you guys actually like my stuff! You are all so AWESOME. I don't regret becoming a part of this fandom. Anyway, here's the second chapter! Hope you all like it! Sorry for any grammar mistakes!

The first couple of days are awkward.

Being here, with him in this apartment, is familiar and uncharted all at the same time. The longest they’ve ever stayed here is two nights. There’s always been a morning to come when Abby packs up her things, shoves her daughter’s clothes into her backpack, and leaves to go back to their own home. But that was years ago.

They find a routine, eventually, and grow more comfortable together; the three of them.

Whatever normalcy Jake had taken away from her, she was slowly rebuilding with Marcus and her daughter, and she thanked whatever higher power out there for this man.

He cooks dinner for them occasionally, slipping Clarke small sips of his beer as he cooks, while her mother sits at the kitchen table with her legs folded, her own glass of red wine and one of her many medical journals in front of her.

She’ll stop at the grocery store after a thirteen hour shift, picking up things here and there that they might be out of. She smiles to herself, realizing how easy this is. Carrots and strawberries for her daughter, sweet potato chips for herself, and apple slices for Marcus.

Clarke takes it upon herself to take out the trash, do the dishes, and pick up around the apartment when her mother and Marcus come back from torturous work days.

Clarke doesn’t hesitate to make herself at home, because this has always been a home to her, unbeknownst to her. 

They avoid the unnecessary conversations, like when Abby will start looking for a new house, what’ll happen with Jake and Clarke, or what the split from her husband means for Abby and Marcus.

But a few days later, it’s a forced topic.

“The lawyers are going over the paperwork one last time.” Clarke hears her mother say from her spot on Kane’s couch. There’s a movie playing in front of her, but she’s far from interested in it… more worried about what her mother and Marcus are talking about in the kitchen. “The home inspection is done; there’s nothing major wrong with the house.”

“You’re using a real estate agent?” She nods as she sips from her cup of coffee.

“I don’t have the time, or energy, to sell a house right now.” He doesn’t want to ask where she’ll go next. He doesn’t want to give her the impression that he wants her to leave, because it’s quite the opposite.

“You and Clarke are welcome to stay here as long as you need.” He knows he doesn’t have to say it, but he wants to anyway. ‘Forever,’ he thinks. She reaches out with one hand, resting it on his arm and gently squeezing, to show her appreciation. He’s been kind enough to offer Clarke his spare bedroom, which she’s already nestled into and made her own, and has given up his own for Abby, sleeping on the couch for the time being. 

Her daughter appears in the dimly lit kitchen, sleep heavy eyes meeting her mother’s.

“I’m gonna call it a night,” she says. Abby stands from the kitchen table, followed by Marcus, and Clarke wraps her arms around her mother. “We’ve got a hiking trip tomorrow,” she explains, talking about herself and the rest of her ‘delinquent friends’.

“Sleep tight,” Abby says before placing a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head. Marcus stands idly, letting Clarke come to him. Looking at her, he remembers all the nights she’s shown up with her mother unexpected, his heart breaking upon seeing the dried trails of tears on Abby’s face and how Clarke reaches out for him when he opens the door. He remembers how he’s chased her around this very apartment, trying to get the toddler version of her to bed at a reasonable time.

“Goodnight,” she says before willingly stepping into Marcus’s arms next. He can’t remember the last time he’s given her a hug, but it feels like she’s eight years old again, begging him to stay up ‘just thirty more minutes’.

—

She offers to sleep on the couch tonight, but he refuses. He knows she has to be at work in the morning, and he’s pulling a night shift later on, so he convinces her that he needs to stay awake anyway. She reluctantly accepts, and after washing out her used coffee mug, slips away from the kitchen. 

He won’t follow her into his bedroom, won’t lay in the bed with her like he used to when Clarke was younger, because he knows it’s still too soon. So he settles in front of his television with another cup of coffee and lets the hours pass by. It’s four o’clock in the morning when he can feel his eyelids grow heavy with sleep. 

He turns the television off, darkening the rest of his apartment. The spare bedroom that Clarke has claimed is just a few steps away, so he approaches and gently opens the door to check on her. She’s curled up on the bed, sheets and comforter keeping her warm, and her packed hiking bag is resting at the foot of the bed. 

He leaves her peacefully, crossing his living room and heading into his own bedroom, making the same careful movements as to not wake Abby. When he takes a step into the darkened, cold room, and his heart swells when he sees her right where she belongs. She’s sleeping on his side of the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, and her angelic face is half hidden behind the covers.

He doesn’t disturb her as he tiptoes to his shower after grabbing a few pieces of clean clothing. The shower starts and he winces as the water splashes against the tiles, wondering if it’s loud enough to wake Abby. He showers fast, shuts off the water, and wraps a towel around his waist. He throws another towel over his head, drying his hair with one hand as he pushes the shower curtain open and steps out from his tub. The pajama pants are the first things he slips on, which come to rest low on his hips. He brushes his teeth, palms the cotton shirt in both hands, and opens the bathroom door, the steam rushing out and the cold air swooping in.

His bare chest, speckled with water droplets, collides with something soft and he pulls the towel away from his face quickly. Abby stands in front of him, her eyes still laced with sleep and exhaustion. She’s wearing one of his shirts, which almost swallows her whole, as she stands barefoot in what little space is left in the doorway. 

Both hands come out instinctively to steady herself, and they land on either one of his biceps. One of his arms wraps around her waist, afraid she’ll stumble backwards and loose her balance, and he’s able to pull her up against his firm body in a heartbeat. 

She can feel his muscles rip under her touch and with her pressed up against his naked chest, he can feel the lack of a bra under the shirt she’s wearing. Neither one of them can take their hands off from the other, so they stand there for a second or two, until her lips curl into a smile and she softly laughs.

“Sorry,” she finally says, shaking the sleep from her head. Painfully, she lets her hands fall from his arms and his arm slips away from her waist as he makes room for her to past by him. 

“It’s quite alright,” he whispers. “I didn’t wake you, did I,” he asks, motioning to the shower. She shakes her head and steps into his bathroom, her tiny bare feet leaving prints on the steamed tile. 

“No, I needed to get up,” she assures him, leaning over the tub to run the water once more. The shirt she’s stolen from him rides up her back, the hem rising dangerously high until it barely covers the small, black lace panties she’s wearing. His eyes shut and he presses his lips into a hardened line, wrapping the shirt in his hands around his wrist painfully tight. He wonders, for a split second, if this whole living arrangement was a mistake. The woman wasn’t even officially divorced and he wanted nothing more than to lift the shirt from her body, rip the black lace underneath, and throw her onto his bed.

It had been way too long. And she knew it.

He’s standing there, dumbfounded, unable to move when she tests the water with her fingers. She’s reaching for the bottom of her shirt again, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she begins to lift the material up her body.

“Mind closing the door? I don't want all the cool air to get in,” she teases, exposing her entire backside to him before he can grab the handle on the door. She rationalizes that this isn’t the first time he’s seen her half-naked.

When she emerges from his bathroom, her hair is pulled back and tied up in a high ponytail. Her light blue scrubs are a tad bit too baggy on her, but the white lab coat she throws on over it is enough to make up for it. 

He’s already in the bed when she comes out, slipping on her tennis shoes and checking her reflection in his mirror one last time. Her embroidered name in black stitching catches her eye and she frowns at the ‘Abigail Griffin, MD’. 

She’ll have to get a new lab coat.

She peeks back at a sleeping Marcus, grips the edge of his door and stares just a moment longer, wanting nothing more than to peel off her scrubs and crawl back into his warm bed.

—

Twelve hours later, she’s pulling her SUV into the space next to Marcus’s Jeep, which is still there. She wastes no time killing the engine, climbing up the stairs, and fishing out the spare key he’d made for her nearly twenty years ago. 

She’s home, she realizes. 

She locks the door behind her and checks her phone, seeing a few missed text messages from Clarke. She’s navigating through the apartment with her eyes glued to her phone, opening up the photo attachments sent by her daughter. The first one is a breathtaking view of the hidden lake they’ve managed to find on their hike. The next is a video, one that brings a smile to her face upon seeing her baby have fun.

‘Bellamy, I swear to all that is holy, if you drop my phone, my mother will kill me.’

The video pans out and there she is, alongside her girlfriend, both girls’ hands clasped and fingers laced together as they stand on the edge of a steep cliff. 

‘Relax, Princess. Now… less talking, more cliff diving.’

“Clarke, don’t you dare,” Abby whispers out into an empty living room, clutching her phone and nearly screaming as she watches her daughter take a plunge off the steep cliff, shooting down into the crystal clear water below. 

And after willing her heart to calm itself, she texts her daughter back, stressing to ‘BE CAREFUL’ in all caps, and locks her phone for the evening. The exhaustion hits her suddenly, and before she knows it, her sore feet are carrying her into the bedroom where Marcus is still asleep.

She’s quiet as she slips into his room, slowly undresses and kicks her scrubs into the corner of the room. She toes off her shoes, peels off her socks, and unties her high pony tail, letting her long hair fall in cascades around her shoulders. She sneaks into his closet, picking out another one of his t-shirts that’ll undoubtedly be too large for her, and slipping it over her naked frame. 

Her heart is poundings in her chest so hard, her ears are ringing. She swallows hard as she reaches out for the covers on the untouched side of the bed, pulling them back and crawling into the bed besides him. He stirs at the dip in the bed gives her away, and he opens his eyes to see her hiding half of her face in the covers, afraid that he’ll pull away and insist he sleep on the couch.

“Hey,” he whispers. She can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest and she itches to reach out and touch him. “Come here.” His voice is rough with sleep and for a wild second, she thinks he’s dreaming, but when he reaches out for her and pulls her back against him effortlessly, sliding her across the sheets, she sighs contently and lets her arms fall over his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I have no idea how long this story will be, but I do know what I want to happen in it... so just stay with me! Thanks for reading and I LOVE YOU GUYS :)


	3. How It Fades

"What about this one,” Clarke asks, lifting the Mac for her mother to look over the apartment currently for lease. She’s been apartment hunting for the past few days, but Abby doesn’t have the heart to actually choose one and move out. Marcus watches the mother-daughter exchange, trying to find the courage somewhere within him to instruct Abby to just stay. 

“It’s nice,” Abby confirms, readjusting the black-rimmed glasses on her face as her eyes scan the computer screen. The rent is reasonable, it’s in a good part of town, and it’s close to Marcus. 

“Nice,” Lexa asks sarcastically. “Have you seen the pool? It’s amazing.” She’s sitting next to Abby on the couch in Marcus’s living room, Clarke resting on the floor between her parted thighs, her head resting against the inside of her girlfriend’s knee. She’s absentmindedly braiding Clarke’s long blonde hair while the apartment search continues.

“I’m sorry,” Abby starts. “Did I miss the memo informing me that I have another daughter?” Lexa winks, Clarke reaches up to take her laptop from her mother, and Marcus jumps when his cell phone besides him starts to vibrate. His mother’s name is illuminated on the screen and he excuses himself from the group of women in the living room, stepping outside on his balcony to answer the call.

“Hey mom,” he says lovingly into the phone.

“Marcus,” she greets him in return. “I didn’t call at a bad time, did I?”

“Of course not.” He realizes he’s been either busy with work, Abby, or Clarke to really talk to his mother; and there’s a sudden headache coming on at the thought of having to explain why he’s housing Abby Griffin and her teenage daughter in his apartment, without telling his mother. “Is everything alright,” he asks, wondering why she’d call this late at night.

“Everything’s fine.” He leads up against the metal balcony that overlooks the busy city. “I was just… thinking about the last time we saw each other; maybe we can have dinner tomorrow night,” she asks, and he wants nothing more than to agree, because he’s honestly missed his mother beyond words. And when he doesn’t answer her right away, she knows something’s holding him back. “Marcus.” He lets out a muffled sigh, dipping his head and pulling the phone away, and after a brief pause, brings it back to his ear.

“Mom… do you remember Abigail Mitchell?”

Later, he steps back into the apartment after what seems like hours. Abby is the only one left in the living room, but he can still hear the laughs from Clarke and Lexa coming from Clarke’s room. It’s late, but their schedules have somehow synched and they’re both off for the next three days. 

It’s become a ritual, for him to wait for her until she’s ready to call it a night. She closes the medical journal she’d been skimming through, lets it fall onto his coffee table, and gets up to follow him into the bedroom. 

“Was that work,” she’s asking about the phone call as she leads him into the bathroom, reaching for her toothbrush. 

“No.” He answers her softly. “It was my mother.” Abby’s eyes meet his through the mirror and she watches as he leans back against the bathroom door, arms folded across his chest. From his reflection, he looks like he’s further away than he really is, but she can feel his arms against the small of her back from the small confinements of his bathroom. “She wants to have dinner tomorrow night.” She doesn’t say anything, simply wondering when’s the last time she’s seen Vera Kane, and spits the mint paste into his sink. “With us,” he finishes, watching her face for any signs of disapproval.

“She… knows about…” She trails off, unsure of what to call their unique situation. She rinses her mouth, saves her toothbrush, and makes room for him at the sink. 

“She knows that you’re staying here with Clarke,” he’s careful with his words, but it’s technically true. He doesn’t feel like it’s his place to tell his mother what’s happened between Abby and Jake, but he’s got no other choice than to express his true feelings for this woman, to help Vera understand. 

She’s crawling into his bed, claiming her rightful spot, and leans against the headboard as she watches him get ready for bed. It’s not much longer until he’s turning out the lights, joining her without a word.

He’s amazed at how far they’ve come over the past two months. Everything they’ve accomplished has been initiated by Abby, and that’s how he wants it to stay. He remembers the first few nights she willingly comes to bed with him, how he’d wake up in the middle of the night to hear her muffling her cries, getting out of the bed to lock herself in his bathroom so she wouldn’t disturb him. He wouldn’t try to pry the door open, but instead, sat patiently on the other side and coached her through the pain, all too familiar with what she was feeling.

She’d eventually stop trying to hide her tears, and it’s when he’d lovingly encourage her to scoot closer so he could wrap his arms around her, pulling her against him so she could cry against his chest in the darkness of his bedroom, gently running his fingers through her thick hair until her breathing evened and she’d fallen asleep against him.

And after that, the tears had stopped all together. They don’t talk about the breakdown she had in his living room during her first night here, she doesn’t ask him why he still loves her, and he doesn’t ask why she chose to come to him after everything that happened with Jake.

He doesn’t have to ask for her to come closer anymore, because she does it voluntarily, sighing every single time their bodies fit together. 

—

“I really… appreciate this,” Marcus says as the three of them are finally settled into Abby’s SUV. She’d handed him the keys before they stepped out of his apartment, all three of them dressed sharply. He knows how awkward and unnecessary this all may seem, especially for Clarke. “She just really wants to meet you two, is all.”

“I understand,” Clarke reassures him. “I’d want to meet the two mysterious women taking over my son’s life too if I were your mother,” she teases him from her spot in the backseat. The playful banter goes back and forth during the entire drive. Marcus is laughing, really laughing, and Abby can’t seem to drag her eyes away from his face. 

And when it comes time for Marcus to introduce them both to his mother, an older woman sitting at a candle-lit table by herself, Clarke’s surprised when the woman extends her arms out for Abby to walk into. She knew her mother and Marcus had always been close; really good friends… best friends at one point, from multiple stories from different people, but had never stopped to think that maybe her mother already knew Vera Kane.  


“Abby,” the older woman says tenderly, pressing a friendly kiss to Abby’s cheek. “Still beautiful as ever, I see.”

“Vera, it’s so good to see you again.”  


 Clarke’s eyes flicker to Marcus, and she watches in amusement as he proudly watches his mother and Abby reconnect. The woman moves to her son next, giving him an appropriate and overdue hug, then turns her attention to Clarke.

“Vera, this is my daughter,” Abby’s saying, extending her hand to present the younger version of herself to the older woman.

“This is her,” Vera asks, eyes seeking out her son. Abby smiles brightly and nods, winking once at Marcus and watching with a small smile as the woman bypasses Clarke’s handshake and pulls her in for a hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

—

He’s not sure if it’s the wine that’s got him feeling bold, or the fact that Clarke and Vera are infatuated with one another, both sharing the love for soccer and drawing. It wasn’t long before Clarke pulls out her phone, swiping through the photo album that’s strictly dedicated to all the pieces she’s drawn over the years. 

He reaches out with a gentle hand, his fingers ghosting over the back of her arm lightly to get her attention. He notices the way her skin pimples at his light touch and smirks at the effect he has on her. She turns her head, her warm brown eyes meeting his, and he nods towards the balcony that skirts around the entire restaurant. 

They excuse themselves from the table, their parting going unnoticed by Clarke and Vera. He leads her out onto the balcony, both of them carrying their glasses of wine. She’s overwhelmed with the beauty of the city outstretched in front of her. There’s a slow, beautiful song floating through the air and as Marcus finds a spacious part of the balcony to lean against, he knows that this is his chance.

“They seem to be getting along well,” Abby speaks into her glass, her lips closing around the glass as she sips more wine. He looks down at her, and he see’s the nineteen year old Abigail Mitchell he had fallen in love with.

“Worked out better than I could have hoped for,” he confesses, his arms resting against the metal railing as his hands cradle his wine glass. “Listen… about our… living situation.”

Her throat suddenly grows dry and she feels as if her stomach is doing flips. She can’t bare the thought of him asking her if she’s found her own apartment yet, because truth is… she wants what she has right now. But she nods her head, as if she knows where he’s going with this conversation, and tries her best not to look betrayed.

“Clarke and I- we.. well, we think we found a place that I could afford. There’s a-“

“Abby, no,” he cuts her off. Her eyes are wide and her lips are parted in wonder. “No, that’s not…” He’s tired of dancing around the matter. “Move in with me.” It’s out. He’s said it. There’s no taking it back. “It’s not ideal, I know.” Or logical, he reasons, asking a recently divorced, past love to live with him. “You’ve just unpacked most of your things. Clarke seems… comfortable.“ He’s trying so hard to convince her that he’s oblivious to her smile.

“Marcus.”

“I know we’re tight for space but… we can fix that, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” she agrees, reaching out to grip his upper arm and letting him see her bright, excited smile. 

“Okay?” She nods her head once, her smile showing no signs of fading. Her arms are snaking over his shoulders, her wrists crossing together behind his head as she tries not to spill any wine on him. “Okay.”

Clarke’s eyes lift up from her phone, catching a glimpse of her mother and Marcus in an intimate embrace. Vera’s talking, but she’s not listening anymore to what the older woman is saying. And when Vera notices she’s lost Clarke’s attention, the older woman follows Clarke’s gaze.

“She looks happy.” Vera looks over at her son, watching the way he’s relaxed with Abby so near by. 

“So does he,” she adds after a moment of observing her child. 

And it’s then, that Clarke realizes there’s a history between the two of them. 

“Tell me their story,” Clarke says suddenly, tearing her eyes away from the couple outside and directing it towards the older woman sitting next to her. “What happened?”

There’s a hesitation in the way Vera places her wine glass down on the table. Clarke can tell from the way Vera licks her lips and inhales slowly, that it isn’t her place. 

“Your father,” she says under a hushed voice as the couple make their way in from outside.


	4. Search Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! I love you guys! Sorry for any grammar mistakes! If the names of the chapters are a little weird, it's because they're titles of songs that have either inspired the chapter or songs that are actually mentioned! So listen to them in the playlist! :D

When she meets up with her father, it’s outside on the patio of a popular coffee house. He spots her rounding the corner almost instantly and can’t contain his excitement upon seeing his daughter. He’s up on his feet before she can even make it to the table. She offers up a small, polite small, but she’s never felt so conflicted before in her entire life.

“Hey, kid,” he says as she embraces him briefly, then taking a seat across from him at the table. She’s thankful for the sunglasses hiding her blue eyes. Vera’s words had struck a burning curiosity within her. There hadn’t been enough time at the dinner for the older woman to explain, so she figures she’ll have to wait until she’s alone with Marcus to ask.

“Hey, dad,” she says after they settle down, but he’s too excited to relax. He’s perched on the edge of his chair, arms extended out on the table between them as he nervously plays with his hands. “How have you been,” she asks, genuinely interested in her father’s wellbeing. 

“I’m doing fine,” he says, nodding, as if it’ll convince her. He refuses to confess how lonely he is in his one bedroom apartment with his family across the city. “What about you?”

“I’m good, dad,” she says with a heavy heart. 

“And Lexa?”

“Sends her love,” Clarke says. She knows it’s killing him inside, but he asks anyway.

“Your mother?” 

Clarke inhales sharply. She won’t discuss how it’s been almost a month since they’ve officially moved in with Marcus Kane. She won’t gloat her mother’s new found happiness with another man. 

“She’s happy,” she says after a moment, choosing her words wisely. But it’s a lost cause, because her father already knows. 

“And you… you start school soon, right,” he suddenly changes the topic. 

“Senior year,” she confirms. 

“Still playing soccer?” She nods. 

The rest of their conversation is forced, awkward, and Clarke can tell the only thing on his mind is the fact that his ex-wife has already moved on.

—

It’s seven-thirty when Clarke gets the call from her mother, explaining that she won’t be coming home for another few hours, that the ER is too busy for her to leave. They talk for the few seconds of free time she has, but the call has to end short. Abby asks her daughter to let Marcus know about her coming in late, they exchange ‘I love you’s, and Clarke puts the phone down with a smirk. This is her chance. Lexa won’t be here for another hour or so, and Marcus has just come in from a run.

She finds him in the kitchen a few moments later, fresh out of the shower, with a bottle of water in his hands as he searches the fridge for something to snack on.

“Hey,” she says softly, trying to make her presence known. He peeks over the edge of the fridge door. “Mom called and said she’d be late coming home tonight,” she says. She thinks about the words that have just left her mouth, taken back at how… normal it all feels. The only thing different is she’s saying these words to Marcus Kane instead of her father.

“I figured as much.” He’s got an apple, his teeth crunching into the juicy fruit. “You ate dinner yet?” She shakes her head.

“Lexa is bringing food,” she explains, taking a seat at the small kitchen table that’s just big enough for their impromptu family of four. “How was your day,” she asks, trying to find a way to subtly bring up the topic of him and her mother. He simply shrugs.

“It’ll get better when your mother comes home,” he answers honestly and her eyes light up at the chance. For the next few seconds, the only sound in the kitchen is from the crunch of the apple in Marcus’s mouth.

“Can I ask you something,” she starts. “I’ll understand if you rather not talk about it, though.”

“Shoot.”

“What happened with you and mom,” she asks with a steady, firm voice. Part of her brain is screaming to leave it alone and that it’s none of her business, but her heart is encouraging her to go on… because this man makes her mother happy. 

He swallows hard at her question, nearly choking on the bits of fruit. 

“Clarke, I-“ She stops him before he can convince her that this is a conversation better suited for Abby.

“No. I know mom’s version of the story. I know that you’re her best friend. I see the way she looks at you; I’ve always seen it. I want to hear it from you, now.”

His shoulders are slumped in defeat and he glances at the watch on his wrist, thankful that Abby won’t be home for another few hours.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she says, not missing a beat. “From the beginning,” she stresses. There’s an undeniable tension in his shoulders and Clarke can tell this will be painful for him to relieve.

“Your father and I were best friends when we were your age,” he starts, trying to put everything in chronological order for a better understanding. It’s hard to picture, hard to imagine her father and Kane being close now. “We did everything together; took the same classes, went to the same parties, hung out at the same bars.”

“What happened?” He sighs. 

“Jake met a girl… a girl he really liked.” The details are a bit fuzzy; he doesn’t remember the girl, her name, what she looked like, only that Jake had started to spend more and more time with her, leaving no room for his other friends, which included Marcus. “I wasn’t his best friend anymore. And it was okay; I had expected it.” 

“So he met mom first,” she’s asking, engrossed in his story. Marcus doesn’t confirm nor deny the question, but continues his story.

“I went downtown the night of my twenty-second birthday. I was meeting Jaha.”

—

_The familiar bar is especially packed tonight with bar-goers. There’s a bit of a line at the front door, but he waits patiently until it’s his turn to flash his ID, have a neon green wristband secured around his left wrist, and walk into the bar._

_He recognizes a few faces in the crowd, but Jaha is still nowhere to be found. There are eight pool tables to his left, four on either side of the building with a wide make-shift dance floor between them. To his right are booths and televisions playing a recap of numerous sporting events from earlier in the evening._

_There’s a catchy song blaring from the speakers above the crowd, making it hard to hear anything but music. The bar is crazy, full of people leaning over the wooden top for the drinks. He see’s Jaha already drinking with David and Diana as he gently pushes past a fellow bar-goer. He smiles when his friends point to him, hold up their beers, and drink._

_Suddenly, there’s something cold and wet against his chest, and he jumps at the sudden contact._

_“Oh, damnit,” the young brunette yells over the loud music. “That was a five dollar beer,” she complains, observing the alcoholic puddle at their feet. Marcus is holding his damp shirt away from his chest, trying to survey the damage._

_“I’m sorry,” he apologizes when he realizes he’s the one who has ran into her. His shirt forgotten, he’s staring at the top of her head. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he offers, and her head lifts. Their eyes meet and he’s blown away._

_It’s an understatement to say she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen._

_“Well in that case…” She offers out her hand for him to shake with a bright smile. “Abby Mitchell.”_

_“Marcus Kane.”_

—

“That sneaky little minx. You two met at a bar?!” She wants to laugh, to smile at how much this doesn’t sound like her mother; the same woman who eats healthy, goes to bed at a reasonable time, and reads medical journals in her spare time. “Okay, then what happened?”

“We… became friends.”

“Best friends,” Clarke clarifies and he nods.

“Jake caught a glimpse of her one night and had the same idea I did.”

“Which was what?” 

“That your mother was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on,” he says, nearly knocking her out from her chair with his confession. Her mouth is slightly parted and her heart is breaking as she pieces everything together.

“He stole her from you,” she figures.

“Clarke-“

“You met her first.” She’s staring at him now, dumbfounded as to why he hadn’t fought for her. “You fell in love with her first and you just let him take her away from you?”

“I just… wanted her to be happy,” he confesses, his arms at his side in defeat.

—

It’s nearing eleven o’clock by the time she makes it home from her shift. She’s exhausted, drained as she deposits her keys onto the kitchen table. Clarke’s bedroom door is open and from the living room, Abby can see the way Clarke’s head fits against Lexa’s shoulders, the two girls asleep in front of a silent, bright television.

She smiles, tip toes into her daughter’s room, switches off the television, and pulls a light blanket over the two girls who sleep peacefully on the bed. She smooths back Clarke’s hair first, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, then one to the top of Lexa’s.

But she nearly jumps out of her skin when the cell phone in her scrub pocket rings loudly. She rushes out of the room, closing the door behind her in hopes she hasn’t woken her daughter or Lexa. She’s in too much of a hurry to silence her phone, that she answers it without glancing at the displayed name.

“Hello?”

“Wow. I’m surprised you actually answered,” he says into the phone. Her eyes narrow and she curses under her breath, pulling the phone away from her ear as she double checks the name on her display. 

“What do you want,” she asks flatly. 

“I’m not sure how I feel about your arrangement with Marcus,” he cuts to the chase, the jealously thick in his voice. She nearly snorts at the irony of it all as she grips the phone harder in frustration.

“Like you have any room to talk,” she stresses. “I’m not sure how I feel about you cheating on me with someone old enough to be your daughter.”

“I don’t know what kind of twisted plan you’re plotting to turn her against me, but-“  
 

“You CAN’T be serious, Jake!” There’s an undeniable furry in her voice and she’s so blinded by rage, that she enters the bedroom without a care that Marcus will hear their argument. “You’re making ME out to be the bad guy here?”

“We’ve been separated for less than six months and you’re already playing house with Kane.”

“What I do is none of your business; not anymore,” her voice is low, steady… terrifying, Kane realizes. 

“What? And you think he’s going to make a better father to Clarke than me?”

Marcus watches the way her free hand balls up into a fist. Her chest is heaving and she looks as if she could smash her phone into a million pieces at any moment. She’s shaking her head, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. He’s had enough, he realizes, when he see’s the glossy appearance her eyes take as she continues to yell into the phone.

He stands from the bed, making his way over to where she stands, and quickly plucks the phone from her hands. Abby grows silent, watching with wide eyes as Marcus brings her smartphone up to his ear. Jake is still rambling on, still cursing and shouting over the line.

“Goodnight, Jake,” is all he says before he presses the red ‘End’ button and locks her phone, throwing it somewhere behind him on the bed. She opens her mouth to protest, pointing to her phone that bounces to a halt on their bed, when he turns to face her, grabs her face between two hands, and pulls her against him for a kiss. 

The tension, anger, and hate melt away instantly when she feels his lips against hers. This isn’t their first kiss, not even since she’s been separated from Jake, but it’s special… this is their moment. His hands ghost around her ribs, falling on her hips, and he kisses her harder when he hears her phone vibrating against the sheets of their bed. 

It’s Jake calling back.

She meets the new intensity of their embrace, matching his passion kiss for kiss. His fingers curl around the bottom edge of her scrub top and quickly lift it over her head. He throws her top into the corner of the room and when he looks at her again, her chest is heaving with anticipation. Her simple, black bra is nearly too small considering the amount of cleavage it reveals. 

He’s walking forward as she takes unsteady steps backwards. The backs of her thighs hit the edge of the bed and she falls onto the mattress, bouncing in place until he leans to tower over her, claiming her lips in another brutal kiss. 

It’s like deja vu the way he leans back ever so slightly to rid himself of his own shirt, how she pulls herself back on her elbows to rest in the middle of the bed, how he reaches out for her scrub bottoms and slides them down her legs. 

They’ve done this before… twenty years ago.

He suddenly grabs her wrists, pulls her arms to stretch out above her head, and pins her wrists gently to the mattress as he takes his time exploring her body. She squirms and wiggles beneath him, itching to touch him. 

Her phone has slid up next to her head, and when it starts vibrating against the sheets again, Marcus trails his kisses down her neck and stops to pay attention to her chest, where he lets go of her wrists only to unclasp her bra. She pushes herself up on her elbows so his hands can reach behind her, and her phone falls from the bed… forgotten.


	5. Letters From The Sky

She’s standing at the nurses station, signing off on orders, when she spots Jake coming down the hallway. Their eyes meet and she knows that there’s no use in hiding now. He makes determined steps as he advances closer, but she stands her ground. She closes the patient file and tosses it into a completed stack of paperwork before he can reach her.

“We need to talk,” he says bluntly.

“Here,” she asks in bewilderment. “Have you no respect?” She has to keep her voice down as to not draw any attention to them. Not many people at the hospital, save for her physician’s assistant and a few of her favorite nurses, know about her and Jake. And she doesn’t feel like starting a heated argument for her patients and co-workers to hear.

“If you’re busy, I can wait.” Abby folds her arms across her chest, taps her foot impatiently on the ground a few times, and rolls her eyes. 

“Fine.” She pushes past him without another look, leading him down the hallway and into her charting office. She holds the door open for him, one that still has ‘Abigail Griffin, MD’ engraved on the glass, and he walks into her office first. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

“Clarke’s birthday is next weekend.”

“I _know_ , Jake. She’s my daughter, too.”

“I want to spend time with her.”

“I have no control over what she does on her birthday.”

“Like hell you don’t. You probably have something planned already; something with Marcus,” he says in spite. She doesn’t reply… because it’s true and she doesn’t trust her voice to break her secret. 

“It’s up to her if she wants you there or not.”

His head falls in defeat, a bitter smile on his face as he looks down. His hands are on his hips in an attempt not to try and touch her, because her smug look was starting to infuriate him. 

She can’t tolerate him standing in front of her, being in the same room as her, breathing the same air as her, so she points to the door.

“Now leave,” she coldly says before slipping out of the room and going back to work.

And hours later, she’s standing in the same spot as before when a different man is walking up to her. This time she smiles when she see’s the dark haired, dark eyed man approach her with perfect timing, she marvels. All of her patients have been rounded on, the paperwork is finished, and Jackson has just come back from a week long vacation.

“Ready,” he asks when he sees her and she simply nods. They walk side by side in silence until they’ve left the hospital and climb into his Jeep. Before he can even buckle his seatbelt, she’s leaning over the center console with her purse in her lap and grabbing his face between her two hands, pulling him over for a deep kiss.

When they part, he’s got a silly grin plastered to his face and she can’t seem to wipe the smile away from her own, either.

“What was that for,” he asks as he starts the engine and drives them somewhere to get lunch.

“Just because,” she says, shrugging her shoulders and fishing around in her purse for her sunglasses.

“Rough day?”

“Not… really,” she says, unsure of herself. “Jake came to the hospital this morning.”

“What did he want?” He manages to keep his voice steady and not too eager.

“To ask about Clarke’s birthday.”

“Did you tell him about our arrangement?”

“No. I told him it’s up to Clarke whether or not she wants him there,” she answers him while staring out the window, watching the bypassing traffic.

“Abby, as much as I might want to agree with you on this, he’s her father,” he explains softly.

“You want him to be there?!” He’s taken her to one of her favorite restaurants and the Jeep comes to a halt in the parking lot.

“I want him to be able to celebrate the fact that his little girl is growing up.” He holds her gaze for longer than necessary and she realizes that he isn’t talking about just Jake. “And if that means being in the same room as your ex-husband for a few hours, then I’m all for it,” he answers honestly.

—

Each couple has plans for the Friday night that’s upon them. 

Clarke and Lexa are matching in an all black attire as they stand together on the back patio that overlooks the city from Marcus’s apartment, waiting for their friends to announce their arrival.

Marcus is straightening his blazer in the full length mirror when Abby emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of tight jeans, a flowy tank top that’s longer in the back, a loose cardigan, and a pair of dark brown booties. 

She catches sight of him and doesn’t attempt to hide her smile as she pushes her earrings into place.

“Don’t you look handsome,” she says aloud, then flips her hair back over her shoulders to perfect her look. She walks up behind him, leans up on her toes, steadies herself with her hands on his shoulders, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You ready,” she asks softly into his ear, upon which he nods and leads her out of the bedroom.

They run into Clarke and Lexa on their way out, both couples headed for the front door. 

“Where are you two off to,” Clarke questions her mother, who stops in her tracks and looks stunned at the sudden questioning.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the adult and I’m the not-to-be-trusted almost eighteen year old,” Abby jokes. “We’re going meet Jaha for a few drinks.” She crosses her arms. “And where, may I ask, are you two going?”

“Out with Lincoln and Octavia,” Clarke says with narrowed eyes, Marcus and Lexa standing by to watch the exchange in amusement.

The two groups say goodbye to each other and before Abby knows it, she’s climbing into the front seat of her SUV while Marcus gets behind the wheel. As he drives, he reaches over blindly and grasps her hand, lacing their fingers together and letting their joined hands rest in her lap. 

When they reach their destination, he climbs out of the SUV, helps her down, and leads her across the street to the older pub where their friend is waiting. Their hands stayed joined all the while, even when Jaha spots them from across the room. 

He stands from his spot in a cozy booth when the couple advances closer to him, hugging Abby first, and then shaking Marcus’s hand. Abby is first to sit across Jaha in the booth and Marcus follows close behind her.

Jaha is nursing a beer when he finally motions with a finger between the couple.

“I’ll save us all some embarrassment,” he says after a gulp. “When did this happen,” he asks with a sly smile; he’s truly missed his two friends, and he knows that bringing up Jake will just dampen the evening.

Abby’s mouth falls open at the sudden interrogation and Marcus motions to a pub worker for a beer and a glass of wine for Abby.

“A few months ago, maybe?” 

“You two are living together?” Abby opens her mouth to stop the personal exchange of information, but it doesn’t seem to phase Marcus one bit.

“Correct,” he affirms.

“And Clarke likes it there?”

“Hello,” Abby calls out, waving one hand to draw attention to herself. “When did our personal lives become such a burning topic of interest?” Jaha shrugs.

“I just want to get all the awkward conversation out of the way.” He takes another sip of beer. “I think it’s great,” he explains. “I couldn’t be happier for the two of you,” he says genuinely. “I just… don’t want to make an ass out of myself in future conversations. Hence all the questions now.”

Abby’s lips are pressed into a hard line, a younger woman sets her and Marcus’s drinks down in front of them, and she gracefully lifts her wine to her lips.

“Yes, Clarke is happy there. No, we’re not pressed for space. I buy the groceries, he cooks.” Marcus is smugly leaning back in the booth, one arm coming out to wrap around her shoulders in a proud display of affection as he shuts Jaha’s prying attempt down.

“Clarke has her own bedroom. Marcus and I share his. Half of the closet is mine now. Yes, Vera knows we’re living together. Yes, Jake knows we’re living together.” She pauses for a second to take a sip of her wine. “Yes, we’ve slept together. Multiple times, actually.” The confession is enough to catch the two men off guard, both of them choking on their beers, coughing, and struggling for air. Her lips twist into a smirk as she rewards herself with more wine. “Should I keep going?”

“No,” Jaha and Marcus exclaim at the same time.

The rest of their evening is filled with easy conversation, old memories, laughter, and Abby can’t remember the last time she’s had this much fun. They talk about work, Clarke, Vera, Wells, and finally, after the trio of adults have consumed their fair share of alcohol, Jake.

“Have you talked to him since the divorce,” Jaha asks openly. She sighs and reaches for her third glass of wine.

“A few times, yes. Mostly arguments, but today he paid me a visit while I was working… to talk about Clarke.”

“You know, I’m not trying to play the Devil’s advocate here, but I know for a fact he misses her, Abby.”

“I know,” she reassures him. “Which is why I’ve decided to invite him to her party.” Marcus nods his head once, proud of her decision, and shoves his empty beer glass to the center of the table. He leans in close to Abby, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispers that he’s going to close out their tab, and then leaves the booth.

Abby watches him walk towards the bar, oblivious to the way Jaha studies her. He’s seen that look before.

“Hey,” he gets her attention. “I’m sorry about…” He trails off, unable to make himself say the words. She nods, her silent cue telling him she understands what he’s trying to say. “You should know he is, too,” he says, talking about Jake. There’s only a sip or so left of her wine and she tosses it back without another word.

“He should be,” she says as Marcus comes back to their table.

—

Clarke’s birthday comes faster than Abby had anticipated. She had taken the weekend off, along with Marcus, to celebrate the special occasion. 

With the help of Lexa and the other kids, Abby had planned a surprise pool party for her daughter at Aurora Blake’s house. Lexa had picked Clarke up for a birthday breakfast while Abby and Marcus, along with Jaha and the rest of her friends, gathered at the Blake residence to set up Clarke’s party.

By the time her daughter makes it to the party, everyone is there and Clarke nearly jumps out from her skin at the sudden burst of shouts wishing her a happy birthday.

Her party is a success. Abby can tell from the way her daughter’s cheeks are filled with color from laughter, sun, and embarrassment that she’s having fun. The cake had been cut and distributed, her presents were opened, and now all the kids were out on the back patio.

“Is he coming,” Aurora asks the other woman as they stand behind glass double doors, watching their children cut flips into the in-ground pool.

“I can’t say for sure, but I did invite him,” Abby says.

“He’ll show.” Aurora’s hand comes out to reassure her friend. “He loves her too much not to.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly and before long, the four sun-burnt party goers are climbing into Marcus’s Jeep to head back to his apartment. Abby can’t help but look back at her daughter through the rearview mirror, watching as she leans her head against Lexa’s shoulders and letting the night drive lull her to sleep.

When Marcus pulls into the apartment complex, he spots none other than Jake Griffin, leaning against the side of his truck.

“Abby,” Marcus says, squeezing her hand to draw her attention. She turns her head, eyes landing on her ex-husband, and frowns.

“Shit,” she mutters under her breath as the Jeep comes to a halt. Lexa nudges Clarke away gently with her shoulder, and for a second, Abby can see the excitement in her daughter’s face that her father is here.

The four of them climb out of the Jeep simultaneously. Abby comes around the front of the Jeep, standing alongside Marcus. Lexa is the only one to notice the way Abby’s eyes burn into her ex-husband, the way her body language all but screams ‘I want to kill him’. 

“The party ended an hour ago, Jake,” Abby calls out, unaware of the way Lexa sneaks behind Marcus to stand protectively behind her, leaving Clarke to go to her father if she chooses.

But she doesn’t… not right away, because she’s glued to the other side of Marcus.

“Yeah, well… I was sitting at home, thinking about my family, when I decided I wanted to see my little girl.” Jake’s eyes are trained on Clarke, but his words are directed at someone else. “But I realized I couldn’t do that because you have my family now.” His eyes leave Clarke’s and rest on Marcus now. 

It’s a challenge, Marcus knows. He takes a few persistent steps towards Jake and Abby springs into action, trying to keep up with him, but Lexa reaches out and gently pulls her back.

“No,” she whispers to the older woman.

“My family,” Jake emphasizes. “My daughter, my wife.”

The two men are standing toe to toe now, and Clarke’s feet feel heavy as she moves to defend one of them; which one, she’s not sure yet.

“Clarke will always be your daughter, Jake. I’m not trying to steal her away from you.” Jake’s jaw tightens. “But Abby isn’t your wife anymore.”

“Yeah,” he agrees in a displeased manner. “Because you made sure of that,” he accuses Marcus. The tension between the two men comes to a peak and Clarke fears for them. 

“Dad, come on,” she pleads, stepping up between the two of them, trying to end a fight before it even begins. Abby watches from her spot behind Marcus, Lexa’s arm still locked tightly around her own.

“No,” Marcus stresses. “You made sure of it the second you brought another woman into your home,” he says. The words make everyone freeze. It’s the first time anyone besides Abby confronts him on his actions and Clarke recognizes the look of fury behind her father’s eyes. 

“Dad, no,” she says instantly, blocking her father from what little space was left remained between him and Marcus. 

Without a second thought or hesitation, Jake’s hand comes out and pushes Clarke out of the way. She knows it’s unintentional, that all her father see’s is red in this moment, and that he’d never deliberately hurt her. 

Marcus loses his composure upon watching Jake shove Clarke aside. He can hear Abby’s yell of protest somewhere in the background, but the only thing he knows how to do in this moment is strike Jake. His fist connects with Jake’s jaw and there’s an ear-piercing crack as bone hits bone.

The two men exchange blows despite Clarke’s desperate yells to stop and after a few minutes, it’s Lexa who’s pulling Jake away.

“Enough,” she howls, her eyes cutting through Jake Griffin. Abby has gone to her daughter, assessing her for any injuries, but she waves her mother off and promises that she’s fine. The mother-daughter duo begin their journey up the stairs to the apartment, but not before Clarke looks back longingly at her father and Marcus, her heart breaking for the two men. “Leave,” Lexa instructs forcefully, pointing to Jake’s truck.

With an angry huff of air, Jake gets into his truck and speeds away without another word. Marcus sighs, wipes away at a few drops of blood from a cut that Jake's knuckles have left above his eye, and looks back at Lexa.


	6. Wonderwall

“You need to talk to him,” Lexa says from her spot on the couch the second Abby walks through the door, midday. She stops for a second, letting her head tilt to the side and trying to figure out when Lexa had made herself a permanent roommate. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Abby says after a moment of silence, toeing off her tennis shoes near the door and walking into the kitchen, where she sets her purse onto the counter.

“If not for you, then for Clarke.” The young brunette pushes herself off from the couch and joins the next best thing she has for a mother. “She doesn’t deserve to get caught in the middle of all of this.” The words that come out from her daughter’s girlfriend nearly break her heart, because she knows Lexa is right.

The guilt crashes in, Abby’s head falls, and suddenly, the only thing she can look at is her sock-clad feet. She lets out a strangled breath, the stress from a long work day and personal issues she’d been trying to ignore all surfacing at once.

“I don’t…” The tears start unwillingly at the thought of her baby girl, hopelessly caught in the middle of her, Jake, and Marcus. “It’s not like I-“

“It’s okay,” Lexa says softly, stepping up and pulling Abby away from the counter, wrapping her in a supportive hug. “She understands what’s happening… and why it’s happening,” she reassures Abby. “But I don’t think he does. And… I think that it’ll be better for everyone when you and Mr. Griffin can come to terms.”

Embarrassed at her breakdown, Abby sniffs and nods her head, slowly pulling away from the younger woman and putting on another brave act. She wipes away the tears that have collected in the corners of her eyes and nods some more.

“I can try,” she says with a broken voice. 

—

The sun is starting to set behind the clouds by the time Clarke comes out from her bedroom, dressed and ready for the soccer tryouts that start in a half-hour. Abby, too exhausted from her shift earlier that day, hasn’t changed out from her scrubs. Marcus is just walking through the door when he see’s the trio in the living room.

“Are we late,” he asks suddenly, looking back and forth at the three women for an answer.

“No. We have thirty minutes until tryouts start,” Clarke says. “But I would like to get there as soon as possible, so…” 

“Alright. Load up the Jeep,” he says, pointing at the two girls. When the couple leave the apartment with all of Clarke’s equipment, Abby slowly gets up from her spot on the couch to meet him in the middle of the living room.

Her arms go around him as if it’s the most natural act in the world. He ducks his head to press a quick, sweet kiss to her lips. 

“Alright,” he says, slowly swaying with her in his arms. “What’s bothering you?”

“What,” she asks, taken back by his question. It was beyond her how he could tell something was wrong, especially with only having seen her for less than five minutes. “Marcus-“

“Tell me,” he presses on, lacing his fingers together and letting his joined hands rest against her lower back. “Spit it out,” he says before pulling her in and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I need to talk to Jake,” she says finally, heart pounding against her chest at her confession. She can’t meet his eyes, refuses to actually, and instead keeps her eyes trained on his button down shirt. “I need to… we need closure. Both of us. And if things go as planned, like I hope they will, maybe this can all have a happy ending.” She’s holding her breath, waiting for his reply.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says softly, his lips brushing against her hair as he talks. “Whatever is best for Clarke.” She leans back, letting her eyes meet his, and she can’t help the happy tears that start collecting in her eyes. “Hey, what’s this,” he asks, reaching up with one hand to cup her cheek, his thumb coming out to wipe away the stray tears that fall.

—

It takes him only a few minutes to put the top down on his Jeep. The two girls jump into the back and buckle up as Abby lifts herself into the passenger seat, then ties her hair back into a ponytail and pushes a pair of sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. Marcus slides behind the wheel, starts the engine, and they’re off.

Clarke watches from the backseat as her mother reaches over the center console, her hand seeking out Kane’s. She feels bad for witnessing the intimate act, but smiles when the older couple’s fingers interlock. 

It doesn’t take much time to make it to her high school’s soccer field, and when they do, Clarke drags Lexa and her soccer equipment to the field where other players are getting ready. Abby walks around the front of the Jeep, meeting up with Marcus, and their hands find each other’s once more. 

“So… when do you think you’ll have your talk with Jake,” he asks softly as they walk together to a set of bleachers where other parents are gathering. 

“I haven’t quite figured that out. He’s probably still on edge from Clarke’s birthday.” He nods in agreement, letting her lead him to an empty spot on the bleachers where they’ll be able to watch Clarke. “I don’t even know what to say to him,” she sighs, thankful for the sunglasses that cover her eyes.

“Just be honest with him, Abby.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but a blown whistle interrupts her, and a rather large group of girls rush the field to start practicing. Lexa jogs over to where Abby and Marcus sit, and take the empty spot in front of them. 

“Look at her,” she swoons, oblivious to the serious conversation Abby and Marcus were having merely seconds ago. 

“Lexa, you don’t play,” Marcus asks suddenly, pointing to the field.

“Soccer isn’t my thing. I’m not coordinated enough. I’d fall and break my neck. Tennis, though. I do tennis,” she’s speaking to the older adults behind her, but her eyes are trained on her girlfriend, who expertly shuffles the soccer ball between two other girls.

“And you’re coordinated enough for that,” Abby teases.

“It’s a different type of coordination.”

And at the end of the tryouts, Clarke’s name is one of the first to be called. Abby and Lexa are two of the numerous family members standing in the bleachers, cheering on their girl as she gathers her equipment and jogs over to where they stand.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” Abby says, pulling her daughter in for a proud hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her sweaty head. 

“That’s our girl,” Marcus says, holding out his hand for a high-five.

“I knew you’d slay that tryout,” Lexa says, grabbing Clarke’s face with both hands and pulling her in for a congratulatory kiss.

“Come on,” Marcus says, leading the three women away from the field. “This calls for a celebration.” Abby picks up the pace to walk besides him, and Clarke screams her excitement at making the soccer team, running from her spot and jumping up onto Kane’s back. Her arms wrap around his neck and his arms hook under her legs as he carries her. “Victory lap,” he yells, running ahead of Lexa and Abby with Clarke laughing in his arms.

Lexa falls in step with Abby, and reaches out to loop their arms together.

“Look at how cute they are,” she says lovingly, which Abby confirms by resting her head against Lexa’s as they walk together.

—

She meets him the next day, her day off, for brunch. Their table is outside on the deck and when she walks up to where he sits, he offers up a small, apologetic smile.

“Thanks for coming,” she says, letting her purse rest on the ground next to her chair.

“Of course,” he says, keeping his blue eyes trained on his ex-wife. “So… what’s the occasion? Come to rub in my face how well your relationship with Marcus is going?”

“Don’t be an ass, Jake,” she complains, crossing her legs at the knees. “I called you out here to talk. Closure. For me, for you… for Clarke.” She can tell he wasn’t expecting this, by the way he suddenly has trouble swallowing. 

“Okay,” he says softly, relaxing his features and switching off the sarcasm. She remains silent, just looking at him, trying to figure out where to start. There are so many things she wants to say, but so little time to say it. She doesn’t want to stay out here for hours arguing with him, so choosing her words are especially important in this moment.

“I’m sorry,” she says, finally, starting off with something safe. “This isn’t what either one of us expected,” she assumes aloud. 

“Are you in love with him,” he asks, getting straight to the point. It feels as if the air had been sucked straight from her lungs and she can’t process how to answer his question without starting another fight. He see’s the conflict in her face. “Just… be honest with me, Abby. Please.”

She inhales slowly.

“Yes,” she answers confidently. 

“For how long,” he asks, without missing a beat.

“Jake-“

“How long, Abby?” This conversation isn’t going the way she’d hoped, but the topic of her and Marcus were bound to come up anyway. “Before we were married,” he asks for her, waiting for an answer.

All she can do is nod her head, unable to speak the words of confirmation.

He’s running a hand through his blonde hair, pressing his lips into a hard line, and Abby can tell he’s having just as much trouble having his conversation as she is.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks, her head snapping to stare at him. He doesn’t look angry, doesn’t look like he’ll smash the nearest object into a million pieces… but broken and miserable, instead. 

“Jake, how was I supposed to tell you,” she begs, voice cracking as she feels the tears well in her eyes for a third time in less than twenty four hours. “Either way, someone’s heart would’ve gotten broken.” He sucks in a shaky breath, at the thought that all these years with her have been nothing more than a lie. “Jake, I loved you. I did, truly,” she reassures, reaching out to grab his hand, but he pulls back. “I don’t regret the decision I made,” she’s talking, unsure if he’s truly listening. “I loved you with everything I had. You gave me Clarke,” she reminds him, wiping away the tears from her eyes as to not draw any attention to their table. “I won’t ask you to apologize for what you did,” she says finally, and it’s what gets him to look up at her. “I… it’s only fair for me to feel that kind of heartbreak, too,” she decides.

“Abby…”

“I just want us to be okay, Jake. For Clarke. For our daughter,” she says, pushing past the feelings of betrayal and heartbreak. “Can we do that? Please?”

“Of course,” he says softly, nodding in agreement. This was why he had fallen in love with her so many years ago, he thinks, her immense love and care for people besides herself. He stands from his chair, holding out his arms. “Come here,” he says, pulling her out from her chair and wrapping his arms around her, gently rocking her back and forth in his arms. 

She buries her face into his chest, letting his touch soothe away her tears. She can feel his lips press against the top of her head and she lets out a shaky breath.

“Look at me,” he says heavily, and when she does, her eyes narrow in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. “I will always love you. And Clarke. Okay?” She nods her head, her throat too tight to speak. 

He takes a step back once she’s stable, and looks down at the hand that still houses his wedding band. Slowly, he slips it off, and her heart breaks at the sight.

“I think… this belongs to Clarke,” he says, his chin quivering at the thought of taking off the wedding band he had worn for almost twenty years.

“I think you should give it to her yourself,” she agrees, fishing around for the chain around her neck to show him the matching wedding band that’s been resting close to her heart all this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how that was and what you guys would like to see happen! I can't thank you all enough for all your kind words and many kudos! LOVE ALL OF YOU.


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